


farewell, daffodils

by fierycrimson



Category: CIX (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27079231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fierycrimson/pseuds/fierycrimson
Summary: When I first met him, he saw me as an object to paint.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	farewell, daffodils

**Author's Note:**

> a songfic based on day6’s letting go.

When I first met him, he saw me as an object to paint.

There was the sun, then the moon, the winds, and the yellow daffodils. Daffodils. I watched his hand moving across the canvas as if it was dancing on its own. Stroke after stroke, every sound his brush made, every color he had chosen, the soul he had put into his artwork, he showed me the world through the eyes of an artist. I would not have ever seen myself being surrounded with that much flowers if it wasn’t for his drawings of me. Then there were the daffodils again. Sometimes they would be on my clothes, sometimes they would be the pattern of the tablecloth in our dining room, sometimes they would be an insignificant decoration on the background, sometimes I would be covered with nothing but their vibrant colors. Most of the time, it was a garden full of their golden petals.

We lived in a quite small house. It was just the two of us. I talked about adopting a puppy, but he didn’t agree ㅡ saying he wouldn’t be able to stand getting less attention from me. I didn’t argue, but couldn’t help to keep thinking about it. He tucked me in his arms and I began reading my book again, slowly picking up where I left. His eyes were closed as he listened closely to the soft hum of our old radio. Needless to say we were too broke to afford a new one.

“Farewell is so scary, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but turned his head to look at me. There was a silence. Instead of his hand, the daffodils we planted in front of this building when we first purchased it were dancing. The winds gently shook them, almost like they were taking time to greet each other as the sun began to set. Cadmium orange. He loved cadmium orange like how he loved yellow. Had I been as much of a good painter as he was, I would have painted the scenery, made a thousand copies of it, and hung them in every corner of our shared bedroom. He looked like a real form of artwork itself and even if I couldn’t keep him trapped inside the small world of my canvas nor snap a shot of the view, it was burned down into my memory.

“Farewell isn’t scary,” he spoke calmly. “We’re scared because we don’t know how life is going to treat us after the farewell. Farewell itself, is just like an ‘end’ in every book you read. When it ends, that means you either have to stop or pick up a new one.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. Good luck, prosperity, and good fortune. Yet instead of daffodils, I once persuaded him to fill our terrace garden with sunflowers a week before we moved in.

“Look at the cheery yellow hues,” he rested his head on my shoulder, finger pointing at the huge window we had installed in our living room. “They suit you.”

That was his way of saying no, and I always fell for it.

The Latin name for daffodils is Narcissus.

“Really? Do you study about flowers, too?”

“No, Seunghun. I read it in a book.”

“You _sure_ love your books more than you love me.”

  
  


*

  
  
  


“If I ask you to stay, will you do it?”

That day, he wore black. There were no daffodils. His hand wasn’t dancing, and I wished the sound of his brush was louder than my beating heart. Every stroke was like a ticking bomb. His palette wasn’t full of yellow shades. Our huge window was closed. I was beyond suffocated.

“You know I’ll come back to you no matter what.”

Seunghun _saw_ me as an object to paint.

So I clung onto it. I wanted to live in the glitter of his eyes, I glued myself to the idea that he would forever see me as his muse. I wanted to lay down on our small garden and wave to the daffodils. I wanted them to wave back. My ears were longing to the sound of our old radio that had long gone, to the feeling of his warmth underneath the blanket, and to changing our bedspread only every once a while because I loved dwelling in his scent.

  
  
  


_I had been holding on to you for so long._

_But now, I must let go._

  
  
  


Throughout our many years of living together, every single thing about this house reminded me of him, of our happy times, of the countless coffee cups I had drunk in the peaceful mornings before going to work. But as I wished I would have reminisced less and made my way out of the room, my mind wandered to the time when I thought farewell was scary.

It was not scary. Not even the slightest bit. It was sad, it was painful, it was _torturing._

I hated the daffodils for the fact that they never stopped growing even without him being here. I got mad at the winds for not taking their time to caress the flowers in our garden of feelings. The weight in my chest got heavier and then there was a house without a puppy. A house that couldn’t be called a home. A house where you would never see the sun set. A house where daffodils grew black and white and cheery yellow hues were no more than just a long forgotten happiness.

  
  
  


I didn’t tell Seunghun that daffodils also symbolize unrequited love.


End file.
